Last year, I took one of my favorite classes I’ve taken for my major – the anthropology of adornment. The class covered the diversity of changes that humans make to their bodies, both permanent and non-permanent, and covered the cultural reasons as to why people adorn their bodies in specific ways, and for what reasons. I took that class with a few friends of mine, one with stretched lobes, a septum, and a myriad of other piercings, and the other, who had been working on her patch sleeve for years at that point, and who seemed to have a new tattoo every month. Sitting next to them during class I looked rather unadorned. I feel a little silly, looking as plain as I do. I keep telling myself that one day I’m going to dye my hair, or get my septum pierced, or get a small tattoo somewhere on my body, anything to differentiate myself from the crowd.
That class got me thinking about what I do to adorn myself. Despite being a transgender man, I tend to fit the gender binary when it comes to what is expected out of a masculine person. I’ve worked hard to pass as cisgender, for many reasons. As it is, there’s a lot of misinformation and prejudice against the trans community, and I try to work against that by being open about my transmasculinity – despite how “normal” I may look to a cisgender audience – so that cis people can learn and grow to accept trans people as a regular aspect of everyday life. In a way, my lack of any obvious adornment is an act of adornment in its own right, complete with its own cultural and political reasonings and justifications.
Despite my reasoning, is conforming to cisgender notions of masculinity for the sake of cisgender comfort an effective strategy to increase acceptance of transgender people? I can’t help but be envious of trans people who feel as if they are able to express themselves outside of the strict cisgender notion of what is masculine and what is feminine. Hell, even my friends from that anthropology class (who both happen to identify as cisgender) feel as if they can adorn themselves with piercings and tattoos, so why should I be any different? No matter what I do to conform to the gender binary, cis people as a whole would rather that transgender people didn’t exist, rather than accept our existence.
Unruly Bodies 
This is such a powerful reflection. The idea of adornment as both expression and resistance is fascinating, especially as you navigate societal expectations as a trans man. Your point about a lack of adornment being its own statement is so true everything we do (or don’t do) says something.
It’s frustrating that acceptance often feels tied to conformity, but your existence already challenges prejudice. If you choose to explore adornment, and get a American traditional selve or 20,000 ear piercings I hope it’s for you not to fit in or push back, as theses choices are permanent but to feel more at home in your own skin. You deserve that freedom to have what reflected in the mirror match what’s on the inside .
I think you bring up a lot of interesting points and I wish there was a single answer to your questions. In this society, passing is extraordinarily important for a variety of reasons, but even the concept of passing is contextual. Think — a cis man with long hair in the rural south might be the cause of some head turns and the receiving end of transvestigation, but the same person in the PNW isn’t enough to blink an eye when it comes to the validity of his gender. I think the kind of adornments you mention don’t necessarily have to indicate cis-ness or not (I’m sure your cis friends are constantly being hounded about their gender despite their piercings and tattoos), though I absolutely hear where you’re coming from. At the end of the day, so long as you’re safe and happy with the way you look that’s the only trans resistance/advocacy that matters. ^_^
Reading this really made me think back to a similar question that I ask myself being a masculine presenting woman and honestly I wish there were answers to your questions but it seems like there might not actually be one. I do catch myself thinking are my tattoos too masculine or are my actions lacking femininity. But all I can really say is continue to be yourself as long as you feel comfortable in who you are you don’t need to do anything different. And I can’t lie even though I know I’m comfortable in my masculinity I have started getting more “feminine” small tattoos here in there and occasionally I occasionally see feminine clothing that I wouldn’t mind trying so I feel like there is a middle ground in all of this. And you should dye your hair or get that small tattoo that you been wanting but not because you want to present something it’s for you to personally enjoy.
I’m not a trans man, I consider myself genderfluid, but I used to identify as a trans man and even today I still find myself with a very similar mindset to you. I tried to go “stealth”, or to pass as cis without telling anyone I’m trans, for a long time. Growing up in a conservative household and town made it really hard to express myself, and it’s something I still struggle with today despite my genderfluidity. Personally, my mindset now is that cisgender people are either going to accept us or they aren’t, and if they don’t accept someone who is visibly trans, then they weren’t truly an ally to begin with. Having said that, I do think stealth trans people are incredibly important to the community. It’s a testament to the fact that we are everywhere.
I feel this from all sorts of directions! I’m genderqueer and often feel like I present “too cis” to talk about my experiences being trans, if I can even call it that. But part of growing into that, rather than trying to shift myself down a spectrum of masculinity and femininity, has been to adorn myself, albeit in somewhat subtle ways. I got an eyebrow piercing and a nose piercing, but those still felt too feminine – especially since the piercer who did my nose defaulted to the “girl” piercing with a tiny glass gem in it. I’ve since switched it out for the cutest little beetle and feel honestly quite a bit more confident with my presentation. I still find myself fearing adornment in more obvious ways, though – even if I don’t care what someone on the street thinks of me and I don’t really have any interest in working for someone who cares if my hair isn’t natural or if my arms have ink, there’s still this huge “what if” and this fear that, by adorning myself, I’m inherently being girlish; not only feminine but childish too. Adornment lives in such an interesting space where it can communicate so much, whether you want it to or not and some people are more comfortable communicating in that way than others.